Long before the Conquest of Thaelia, three small folk cultures lived in loose alliance: the elven houses of the Oak-Fyrn, the gnomish river-clans of Mellyari, and the halfling hill-settlers of Tumblegreen. Each marked the turning of the year with a shared song called The Last Light Hymn, performed at dusk on the final day. It honoured the fading sun, the spirits that guarded the land, and the hope that dawn would return.
Their lands and peoples are gone. The conquest of Thaelia erased borders, languages, and customs. Only the hymn survived, inherited imperfectly.
In present day, the hymn is still sung, but no one agrees on its "correct" version. Each region uses different verses, misremembered refrains, and musical flavours borrowed from local tastes. Scholars suspect dozens of lines are garbled beyond recognition. Yet the melody remains unmistakable: a slow, minor progression that resolves into a bright, hopeful chant. It is the only tradition considered older than every current border and grievance. Nobles, farmers, city-dwellers, and isolated frontier communities will all know and sing it. Finding a tavern that doesn't sing this song would be an impossible quest.
Some towns accompany the hymn with paper lanterns. Others ring little ornamental bells. Coastal settlements continue an older variant where the final verse is whispered rather than sung, offered to the sea.
Local version popular to the people of Midmar
When the sun spills gold upon the waves,
And gulls sing low their final cries,
We gather on stone walls and salt-kissed shores,
To remember old skies.
For the children lost beyond the veil,
Who sailed too far with hopeful eyes,
May their laughter ride the tides again,
Forever among the stars above.
For the ones who carved this castle's stone,
Their hammers silent now, but firm,
May their halls hold warmth and protect,
From winter's iron churn.
We breathe the salt, the cutting wind,
We mark the day the year ends,
Before the sky is swallowed by the moon,
We hold our last stillness.
When the final note drifts on the dusk,
We whisper low the last verse,
Candle extinguished, light withdrawn,
Until the stars reclaim this world.
May all lost voices ride the sea,
May old stones hold memory,
May our hearts keep silent vigil ,
Until the dawn returns to be,
Until the dawn returns to be.
The hymn is the last living artefact of peoples erased from history. Thaelians know this, even if they do not remember the details. Singing it is a collective admission that they stand on the remnants of something older and greater. The song is treated with near-devout respect not because the lyrics are sacred, but because they are a bridge across forgotten time. This song is the single tradition that still belongs to everyone and no one; it is a memorial wrapped in melody, and a promise that what was lost will not be forgotten as long as the song is sung.